


And Some of Them Decent

by xahra99



Series: Monster Ballads [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: British Comedy, British English, British Female Character, British Slang, Gen, Gen Work, Humor, Servants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahra99/pseuds/xahra99
Summary: 'Not a gentleman's family, are they?'What do the Arrow House servants really think of the Shelbys? Season Three. Gen. Complete.





	And Some of Them Decent

**Author's Note:**

> Frances is Tommy's long-suffering housekeeper in seasons four and five. Mary is the housekeeper in season three.

_Warwickshire, 1924_

The senior servants call a council in the butler’s pantry two days after the new owners move into Arrow House.

In better times the room would have been quite crowded, but times are hard for the English nobility these days. There’s just three of them. Mary Challis, the housekeeper, Frances Turner, the lady’s maid, and Johnny Lewis, the steward. The green baize door dividing the servants’ domain from them upstairs is tightly closed, but they shoot it nervous glances just the same.

Johnny pours the port, but it falls to Mary to say what they are all thinking. “Not a _gentleman_’s family, are they?”

She wants to say more, but years of service have curbed her tongue, so she retreats into excessive politeness, the kind that makes _she’s no better than she should be_ into the sort of insult that makes gentlemen draw pistols.

“They aren’t _nice_,” Frances says precisely.

“No,” Johnny says, downing his glass in one swallow, “but they pay well.”

“One thing’s for sure, they’ve no idea how to keep servants.”

“How would they?” Mary says. “I’d send them to the servant’s entrance if they showed up at the door.”

Johnny sucks his teeth. “I’d run them off with shotguns.”

Frances swirls the port in her glass but does not take a drink. “We used to get proper gentry back in the day. Remember Lord Johnson? So upper class, he never squeezed his own toothpaste. The footman found him one day on a visit in his bathroom staring at his toothbrush all confused, saying he didn’t know how to get it to foam up.”

“I don’t think we’ll get proper gentry now,” says Mary. “Not with this lot here.”

“I don’t know. Half the Warwickshire elite are dying to refuse a dinner invitation. The other half might actually show up. If only for the stories.”

“There are stories all right,” Mary says darkly. “Do you want to hang around and wait to see if they’re all true?”

“It’s a shame,” Johnny tilts the bottle. “This house could be a goldmine. Think of all the fruit and veg.”

“The candle ends and leftovers,” Frances agrees. They’ve all been in service long enough to be experienced in all the ways a canny servant can take advantage of inexperienced masters.

“And the cellars full enough that nobody’ll notice if a bottle or two goes astray.” Johnny downs another glass.

“Except they’d probably shoot you,” Mary says, sliding the bottle away from Johnny’s hand.

Johnny stares wistfully at the retreating liquor. “True.”

“Perks don’t count,” protests Frances.

“Yes,” Mary says, “but do you think they know that?”

“The gentry knew.”

“Yes, and they knew to stay the other side of the green baize door. This lot hang around the kitchen.”

“Bothering the serving maids, no doubt,” Johnny says, though Mary’s heard that in his younger days Johnny was quite the botherer of serving maids himself.

“Yes.” Frances. “Though they do take no for an answer. Some of the younger maids seem quite taken with them.”

“Keep them away,” Mary says. “We’ve all heard the stories. That’s why we’re having this conversation.”

Frances glances nervously at the door. “Do you think they can hear us?”

Johnny shakes his head. “Not here.”

They drink in silence for a moment. The port is good, but not the best.

“What happened?” Frances asks tentatively. “They say he won the house gambling with the young lord.”

“Not true,” Johnny shakes his grizzled head. “I’ve seen their accounts and they’ve been desperate to sell for some time. These country houses aren’t as fashionable as they once were.”

“Times are changing,” Mary agrees.

“They’re changing all right,” Johnny says in a tone of dark disapproval.

“His wife, she seems a proper lady,” Frances says cautiously. “He did well there. Knows how to talk to servants. The rest, they try and speak to you.”

They all shudder.

“Lord Johnson,” Johnny says, “Now there was a man used to commands. You know where you are with commands. You don’t have to think.”

“No, but we all can if we have to,” Mary says briskly. “And I think that I’m too old to move. Frances, what about you?”

Frances manages a half-smile. “I’m not going anywhere. Not with a husband and two daughters buried in the parish church. What do you think, Johnny?”

“I think they’re paying us a lot of money. And none of us are as young as we once were.”

“The girls all go to work in factories,” agrees Frances. “Good wages there.”

“And like you said, the Shelbys do pay well,” Mary says.

“So it’s decided? We stay?”

“Yes,” Johnny says. “See what they make of things.”

“They do appreciate their food,” says Frances.

“And their drink,” Johnny says. “It’s like they’re not domesticated.”

“They may improve with close acquaintance,” Mary says.

“How could they not?” Johnny raises his eyebrows. “They’re bloody gangsters.”

“Language!” Mary snaps. There are boundaries a man cannot cross, even behind a green baize door.

Johnny bows his head. “Ladies, I do apologise.”

“If we’re going to use bad language, then might I add that they don’t seem to give a damn what anybody thinks,” says Frances. “There are gypsies camped out on the lawn. Shots in the dark. And I heard the younger brother ran naked round the fountain last night.”

“They won’t be welcome in society, it’s true,” agrees Mary. “But there are ways. Especially with that pretty wife of his. I’ll write to the servants at Windfell. Drop a few hints. Somebody will take them up.”

Johnny sighs. “Give them a few generations.”

“We’ll see,” Mary says. “After all, if you go back far enough, every man made his money somewhere. Except the King, God bless him.”

“God bless the King,” Johnny says. They toast.

“God help all of us,” Mary says, and drains her glass.

_‘There are some exceptions that I must confess_

_I mean in behaviour and not in their dress,_

_For they dress all alike and like dandies they go_

_And some of them decent and some of them no.’_

-_The Dandy Servants_, traditional ballad.

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered what the hell the servants must have thought of the Shelbys. It’s Downton Abbey meets Peaky Blinders. Mary is the housekeeper in season three, Frances is Tommy’s long-suffering housekeeper in season four and five, and a male servant called Johnny is mentioned in season three. I made Frances Grace's lady's maid to explain them both being present at the same time. It was pretty hard to get good help in the 1920s, as by then there were much more attractive and better paid jobs that didn’t involve being at someone’s beck and call twenty-four hours a day. Tommy Shelby seems pretty loyal to his employees. He probably wouldn’t be a bad boss, so long as you could tolerate the occasional murder and didn’t enquire too closely into what exactly was buried in the shrubbery. As always, my intention was not to disrespect, and any mistakes are entirely my own.


End file.
